Why So Serious?
by Romanticized Missile Fire
Summary: Mr. Crepsley and Darren didn't stay to make sure Murlough was really dead... and now the mad vampaneze is on the prowl. But who is he after? The one and only snake-boy sweetheart of the Cirque du Freak of course! AU; LartenxDarren 'hints'; SLASH
1. Prologue

**Hey there! If you've found this you're A) a reader of mine already and thought you'd check this out, B) just as appalled as me to not see ANY MurloughxEvra fics on this site, or C) just as kinky as me to lurk in this region of the Cirque du Freak fandom. ;3 No matter what category you fit into (even if it's all of the above) I hope you really enjoy this beginning. And remember, if you want more, all you have to do is select Review, Author Alert, or Story Alert. I even like having people put my stuff in their faves, but how would you be able to track it's progress if you only faved it then forgot? That just wouldn't do, lol.**

**WARNINGS: Massive AU, probably a good portion of OOCness since Mr. Shan didn't characterize our favourite snake-boy very well, and possible adult situations in much later parts. ^_^ Also, I don't own the Cirque du Freak series**.** If I did, Mr. Crepsley wouldn't have died, Steve would have been killed much earlier on in the story, and that shower scene in the 4th book totally would have been... much more than it was. (Because we all know Darren wants Crepsley's nuts, and vice versa.)**

She was upset at me again for reasons I couldn't pinpoint. Unblinking eyes seemed to hurl curses at me in only the way snakes can, forcing me to avert my gaze and amuse myself without my snake's company. Looking to the tent in my roomie'scdirection, I spotted a deck of cards sitting near Darren's occupied hammock. He looked upset, but I wanted those cards so badly. And someone to keep me company while my snake held such an unfair grudge.

"Hey, Darren," I grinned and pushed some of my hair out of my face with one hand, "Want to play a game of cards? Speed could be fun! Or maybe even Slap Jack."

The half-vampire didn't respond at first. His contemplative gaze was aimed solely at the ceiling; I almost though he hadn't heard me, because the look on his face didn't change. But ever so slowly, he turned to look at me. What he said surprised me though. "Have you ever been in love, Evra?"

What a weird question. Of course I hadn't! At sixteen years old—and having lived my whole life in one circus or another—I hadn't taken the time to meet any girls. And no girls ever seemed to take interest in me, the boy with cold blood and scales. After all, being able to stick your tongue up your nose and charm an overly-largely and overly-moody snake weren't exactly the way to pick up chicks.

"Nope. Why?"

Darren's face seemed to drop from an expression of brooding thoughtfulness to one of something akin to fear and embarrassment. His cheeks colored a dark shade of pink, and I immediately knew that I shouldn't have asked. Instead, I skirted around my own question. "So, do you want to play or not? 'Cause I'm just as cool playing Solitaire if you'd rather sit there and think about your lover-girl."

Judging by the slack jawed expression and even darker blush, I decided to lighten my comment with a wink. Darren smiled sheepishly at me, looking away from my eyes to assess the rest of my face. He did that sometimes. When I had first met him, I thought he did it out of fear of me or out of the usual human awe that caused all Cirque-goers to openly stare. But I learned that it was his way of telling what my emotions and thought were, like he was reading me.

I sat up and stared at him, letting my hair fall into my eyes again to hide me from his probing brown eyes. (Note to self, ask Truska for a haircut. I needed it _badly, _even if it did come in handy against Darren's stares_._) We sat in that silence for a few minutes, and even I began to feel uncomfortable, which didn't happen often.

"Evra?"

"Hmmm?"

"You won't tell anyone will you?"

"Tell anyone what?" He had a tendency to be a little confusing, probably because of all the new things he was learning/not understanding from Mr. Crepsley. I began to feel uneasy about what he wanted me not to say anything about. Was he killing people like that crazy vampaneze a year or two back? Was he still plotting to kill his red clad mentor? Was he planning to leave the Cirque to be with Debbie?

"… Crepsley."

Feeling like a complete idiot, I asked him to repeat himself. But whatever it was, he must have thought that it would be shocking to me, so he repeated without the slightest hints of sarcasm.

"I think I'm in love with Mr. Crepsley."

Now it was my turn to have a slack jawed, blushing virgin expression. Darren looked away from me, favoring my still angry snake for someone to look at. It didn't make sense though. He and Crepsley had been together only three to four years now, and he was still just a… oh. I knew what was happening to him. He was at _that _stage of his life where his hormones went wild. The only part that made it worse for him was that it was only on the inside. And it would last five times longer than normal people.

"Darren, have you thought that maybe this is just… well, your Mini Me talking?"

He fixed me with another probing stare then, but this one was more stern. "My what?"

I sighed and covered my slowly darkening cheeks. "Your dick, Darren. Are you sure this isn't just puberty talking? That he isn't just a fling because you two are always in such close proximity?"

Laughter burst from the half-vampire like water from a broken dam, and he nearly flipped himself out of his hammock with each guffaw. I glared at him and crossed my arms, not knowing what was so funny about what I had said. Sure, I probably looked like a kid sitting there like that, but I wasn't about to give into the biggest thing Darren made fun of me for: scratching my left jaw when I was frustrated or emotional.

Once his outburst simmered down to a trickle of chuckles, my best friend finally said, "That won't start for a while yet, Mr. Von. You should know that."

"Why not?" I decided not to get angry at his snotty last statement. The urge to scratch my jaw was almost overwhelming.

"Puberty starts when the body matures to that point," he gestured to his still childlike form, "And I still haven't changed in that respect. It'll be a good ten years before that happens, thank God."

With an evil grin I added, "And then it'll last five times longer than any other boy's."

"What could be so bad about it? Mr. Crepsley said that—"

"That old bat hasn't been through puberty in over a century, Darren, so he can't tell you anything. I however have already gone through the worst of it, and I can tell you… it's not fun. Remember how my voice was cracking for weeks? And the growth spurts and the… oh, never mind. I'll let you experience the dreams later. They'll last you a good looooooong time."

The fear in Darren's eyes made me roll my eyes. "They aren't bad dreams unless you end up adverse to wanking."

"What's—"

"Just ask good ol' Crepsley. I'm sure, being the man that you love, he'll be more than happy to explain such things to you. Surprised he hasn't already. Among other things with the way you hang on him…" At that, Darren's face went pink again and I laughed.

"So how about those cards?" I asked to lighten the mood and get us back on more comfortable terms. He probably wasn't ready to talk about his relationship with Scarface and I didn't want to be bullied into telling him about the joyous miracle of puberty.

For a second, Darren just stared at me, and I thought he was going to ask me what wanking was again. But he just smiled and nodded, grabbing the worn little box off the ground and tossing it to me. Of course, being the jerk of a best friend he was, he had purposely thrown it too lightly, causing them to thump onto the ground about halfway to my hammock. When I snorted and gave him a very pointed look, he adopted an innocent smile and shrugged lightly.

Hopping down to the ground, I tied my hair back with a long thread I had pulled from my hammock, ready to give Darren the biggest whipping of his life via a game of _Extreme_ Slap Jack. Just let Crepsley try to fix a broken finger or two with his magic vamp saliva! But as I walked to the cards and bent to pick the pack up, Darren made a sort of squeak.

"What is it? Awed by my amazing knot-tying skills?" I laughed, assuming he was surprised at my hair being pulled back 'like a girl's'. But he wasn't staring at my hair. He was staring at my face. "Darren? What's wrong? Am I shedding?"

"You're… jaw. And cheek. Evra… did you scratch yourself in your sleep?"

I touched my face gingerly, hoping not to find anything unusual. Nothing caused me any pain, and I felt no big irregularities in my scales other than what I had found a couple months earlier. "No, why?"

"Oh, God. No. Not you!"

With a scowl, I reached up to take my hair back down to hide my face. "If you don't like how I look…"

"We need to talk to Mr. Tall. And Mr. Creplsey."

Panic began to eat away at my stomach, making me feel the same way I did whenever my snake decided to dry-bite me. But Darren didn't need to see that I was freaked out by whatever he was being such a child about. "Yeah, let's talk to them about how you don't like irregularities in my scales. How sensitive of you, Darren. As if it wasn't bad enough that I look the part of the freak, you have to treat me like I—"

"Shut up, Evra. This is serious."

"What is it then?"

My best friend jumped from his hammock and rummaged in his bag leaning against the tent wall closest to him. With speed quicker than I thought possible for the half-vampire, he was next to me with a little handheld mirror in his palm. "Just look at yourself."

"Darren…?"

"Yes?"

"Why do you have a woman's compact in your purse?"

He slapped me over the back of the head and laughed humorlessly. "Just look at yourself would you?"

"Okay, okay."

I angled the tiny double mirror to where I could see the left side of my face and slightly under my jawline. A trio of small, nearly unnoticeable scratches were at the corner of my jaw leading up ever so slightly onto my cheek, but that was about it. What was Darren so freaked out for? It wasn't as if I was bleeding to death or disfigured. He was just overreacting as he tended to do… kind of like how he thought he was in love with Mr. Crepsley.

"Not seeing anything, Darren."

"Those scratches. Don't you see them?"

"Well, sure, but I don't see what the big deal is with a few—"

"Evra, don't you see? You've been marked!" He was wide-eyed and looked thoroughly ruffled, but I still didn't understand why. Was he just unable to handle his best friend looking less than flawless for the Cirque shows? Because, so help me God, if he had been going over the profits from the last shows with Mr. Tall…

"Marked by what exactly?" I asked with a barely restrained roll of my eyes and a tone slightly more annoyed than I meant it to sound.

He gripped my shoulders, staring at me with hard eyes. Whatever it was, he was getting angry about it. I flinched as Darren's grip tightened and his long, hard nails began to cut through my scales to my skin. With a growl, he then pulled me into the fiercest hug I had ever experienced in my half-reptilian life. As he embraced me he whispered two words that made my stomach drop like a rock into a lake.

"A vampaneze."

**OHMYUSERNOES. A plot twist you had probably already thought would happen! *gasp* R&R, pretty please! (And critisism is much encouraged; I like to get better, not just stay how I am now.)**


	2. Little Dose of Crazy

**Wazzuuuuuuup? Goodness, if you don't remember that, I'm getting' hella old. Anywho! Welcome to the first actual part of sorts. Yeah, it's kinda just another half of the prologue, but I don't care. It's getting' labeled as a chapter would! :D Also, I changed POV just for this section, so you get a few of the moments I planned for later. Why? Because I just love you guys so much, that's why! And I was at a loss for the conversation section with Crepsley and Tall. They're hard to characterize, ya know. Well, on with the show! ENJOY! **

The sewers of stank of shit and death. Granted, the aromas of human and animal feces were much more prevalent than that of anything dead, but it was there nonetheless. The darkness seemed to amplify the nauseating mixture, and made stepping on something slimy at least twice as gross. But some creatures never seem to mind those conditions, and a certain vampaneze was one of them.

Murlough sat in one of the dry, long unused tunnels, savoring the smells hanging in the stagnant air. This was his home, more so than anywhere else had ever been. Even as a small, human child with well to do parents and anything he could have asked for, he was never so happy. Something about that life, his humanity, had seemed shallow and useless, and later no longer worth the living. This though, this sewer with its bustling rat population within and an equally growing population of humans above was home. His real home.

Sitting near him, looking miffed but very much alive was the animal Murlough had managed to make a friend of, even after almost killing her. He had named her after a crush of his from his human life years before, and she had taken quite well to being called it. After all, it wasn't every day that the supposedly mad vampaneze got to meet anyone who would trust him, and he liked this one. Cecily was a very good goat, though often moody, and skittish around Murlough when he hadn't drank in a long time. A good goat, though, and an even better companion to one as lonely as himself. Damn good conversationalist, too.

Right now, she was just plain angry, though. As large as he was, Murlough hadn't been willing to feed on much more than farm animals for months, and was getting to be more than a little edgy. Cecily bleeted angry, and seemed to angle a glare at him that only a goat can manage. "Why you just sittin' 'round here when you could be makin' yourself a friend or two, Mr. Murlough? You be more than lonely 'round these parts, an' rats don't make good company."

The vampaneze, still wallowing in self-pity at being bested by a vampire—an _orphan ginger, _at that—snorted in response. He didn't feel like arguing with Cecily about the merits of friendship and camaraderie again. Just because the rats couldn't talk like her didn't mean they weren't friends; they were fun to watch, and they had expressive eyes. Murlough liked the rats. And the smell of the sewer helped to muffle his ever building hunger as it was.

"You don' even like animals for eatin', so what you doin' it for? You still feelin' sorry for yourself?" Cecily said in her goat-like way. So straight to the point, that goat was.

That, Murlough thought, was the last straw, though. It was enough insult to be beaten by a man who obviously got off on having a child travel so closely with him, but to be accused of pitying himself? By the gods of the vampaneze, only Murlough was allowed to accuse Murlough of anything! "I don't pity myself, you bitch…"

"Uhhhh huh, sure you don't. And my name's Miss Boughregard of Maple Lane. That's jus' a lie. And don't you be callin' me names. I don't have to keep my fluffy butt down with y'all, but I do. So watch yourself, Mister Murlough."

With a sudden intake of breath, the large vampaneze man began to cry. It wasn't very often that he let any sort of deep emotion out, but this was the second time he had cried with Cecily nearby. The first time had been when he had been forced to drain a pig. It had been so degrading and disgusting to do that… he had simply broken down. But just like last time, Cecily sidled up to him and snuggled under one heavily muscled arm against his side.

"Don't you be cryin' now, sugar. Cecily's here, and she ain't goin' nowhere without her big, strong man. You hear me? I ain't leavin' you," she bleeted quietly as she nuzzled his side.

"O-okay… and I'm sorry about… about the name, Cecily… I didn't m-mean… any of it." With one grubby hand, the man wiped his face—which was now only pale lavender for lack of human blood and a low deathcount—and pulled the loving goat closer to him. "But I don't know how to… what I should do with myself anymore. Everything is… it's just over for me. There's nobody I can talk to but you… and that gets to be lonely sometimes."

With a lack of people to torment and make think he was crazy, Murlough had totally dropped his insanity act. Sure, he was a bit off his rocker, but who wasn't? There wasn't even a point in talking in third person or just acting crazy. It'd be stupid to act crazy for Cecily. She'd see right on through his act like she always did. And the rats would laugh at him for it.

"I understand you, sugar. Maybe you jus' need yourself a lil' bit of fun. Y'know, a friend who ya also love with your whole soul. That's it, we jus' need to get you a lifetime partner to share your everythin' with, someone who can learn to care 'bout a big ol' softy like yourself. Jus' gotta show 'em who ya really are, and they'll be lovin' you in no time! It's foolproof."

Murlough cocked his head and his little goat friend with her scarred body and bossy attitude. He knew it had been a good idea to make her a half-vampaneze goat when they had been dropped down into the sewer, a good idea saving her life and befriending her. The large man thanked the gods for saving him as well, though he now had more than enough abdominal scars to scare anyone away. And it still hurt to feed copiously… which made him easily angered.

"You forget that I can't exactly make friends with humans, Cecily," he muttered, running his dirt encrusted nails over his ratty suit and unnatural skin, all the while thinking about his unnerving crimson eyes. "They don't tend to like really tall people unless they're well dressed. And I have no money."

"Who said this here partner has to be a human?"

"Well… who am I supposed to drag down here with me? I can't very well find any other vampaneze; I'd be outted as the completely sane individual I am if they learned anything about me. And I wouldn't be able to bear the rats laughing at me. Or you giving me the silent treatment if they don't like you."

Cecily looked to be deep in thought, her goat eyes glazed over and staring blankly at nothing for a few moments. She had that look sometimes when she was thinking. Or when she was suffocating; in both cases, Murlough learned it was best to let her go and give her some room. As he let her go, she drew a deep breath and stared at him, bleeting weakly. That was _quite _the deep thinking she had going.

"How about one of them kids from that circus you tol' me 'bout? They ain't vampaneze or humans, and they'd be sure to live a good long time 'cause of the young age. And they'd be much more likely to love ya since they'd be in that formative stage."

Whenever Cecily had her massive thinking sprees, she was a complete genius! Murlough hugged the goat with a bark of laughter and raced away with her in his arms, running through the tunnels he knew so well in search of an opening to the city. He only stopped when the stripes of moonlight slashed into the complete darkness of the tunnels, feeling almost blinding to his supersensitive eyes. Murlough ripped the grate out with ease and hoisted first Cecily then his own thinning form out onto the city streets.

Blood. It smelled like the blood of thousands of humans clustered into one area. The large vampaneze salivated at the smell of it all, wanting to drain them all. But he couldn't; not until he had someone to free him from his shame, someone to love him even as a loser and supposed nut. With a tight smile, he picked up Cecily and flitted to the outermost edge of the city where a field was less than two miles away.

"You stay over there until I come back, okay? I don't want anyone to steal you away from me and make you their best friend. And make sure you don't talk to any strangers or accept any grass from them."

Cecily nodded, the rope around her neck bobbing along with her head as she sauntered away in search of the field. The vampaneze watched her go with a smile, knowing she never was too fond of long farewells when she knew she'd see him again. He just hoped she wouldn't try to kick him when he came back this time; that had hurt, though he knew it was only out of surprise instead of spite.

With that, the vampaneze went in search of the little snake boy he had captured so many months earlier for ransom. Surely he was old enough to last a while and in his formative years so he'd forgive Murlough and love him. And if he didn't? Tough nuggets. That boy would stay with Murlough until one of them died. And why did the mad vampaneze pick the snake boy?

Because he didn't know any other children from the circus except that vampire's assistant, and Murlough sure as hell wasn't going to steal Creeply's boy toy. Besides, the little bastard had been mean to Murlough, and he didn't like mean children. That snake boy had been nice enough, nicer than most people. So the vampaneze immediately fixated on him.

It was a few weeks before the man found the Cirque du Freak. If he was to be honest with himself, he would have known that finding them was totally by chance. But Murlough was a devout believer in the fates, and had a feeling that he was mean to find the reptilian child. But what he saw at the little freak show almost took his very breath away.

The day was waning, sun setting in a spectacular array of reds and oranges, when the snake boy had left a small tent with his snake draped over and around him. He was clad in nothing but a pair of shorts that looked to be a size too small, his fair hair tied back with a bit of string. His handsome face was stretched to the breaking point with a carefree smile, and his scales gleamed in the scant light. It was a smile that made the vampaneze's knees feel weak and his stomach flutter.

What had happened to the little snake boy? He had been so tiny and fragile, someone who was easy to manipulate and make cry. But oh, how he had changed over those months! Gone was the look of a boy becoming a man, replaced fully by real man learning to harness the power of his body. And oh, what a body! Murlough knew he wasn't impressionable anymore, not a good candidate to make love him, but he wanted him now.

And just let those rats laugh at him for this catch!

That very night, as he slept, Murlough slipped into the tent. His nose was assaulted by the scent of a vampiric human. His head swiveled to see the Creeply's boy, still looking the same as he had at the girl's house so long ago. The urge to slice his belly open and stick him in a bag with a bleeding goat was nearly irrepressible, but he managed to ignore the idea. There weren't any goats nearby, anyhow. Instead, he looked to his prey on the other end of the tent.

Golden hair created a rumpled halo around his face, making him look like some sort of fallen angel to the vampaneze. Full lips were parted in sleep, breath that smelled faintly sweet wafting in and out calmly. Murlough approached his prone form, admiring the thickening muscles of his arms and torso, the length of his fingers, his handsome thighs, and overall lean build. But he loved his face the most. It was innocent, expressive, and just dead sexy. The eyes moved lazily beneath green lids, as if he was admiring Murlough as well.

He was so beautiful.

Murlough, for once in his whole vampaneze life, hated to mark his prey. The boy was just too perfect to mar his beautiful, scaly flesh. But he had to, or else give up the idea of any sort of partnership in the tunnels. And he would have to learn to deal with the taunting laughter of the rats and possibly a few sharp words from Cecily now and again. No. He had to do this.

Choosing a spot that wouldn't be too obvious, the large man leaned forward and gently raked his nails over part of the snake boy's left cheek, his jaw, and part of his neck. It wasn't long, nor was it obvious, but it made Murlough's emotions battle for dominance. On one side, he was upset at himself for making the snake boy bleed, but on the other side of his brain, elation was rampant. Happiness won the battle. This young man was his now! Didn't that mean he could do as he liked? Yes, of course he could! Murlough could do as he pleased when he pleased with the delicious little reptilian freak.

With the gentlest of motions, the vampaneze pressed his lips to those of his prey in a tender kiss. They were soft and cool, he noticed with awe and happiness, and seemed to part further with the touch. It became even more of an invitation to deepen the kiss when the snake boy breathed a slight moan against the vampaneze's mouth, blowing that sweet air into his mouth, inviting him further. Murlough accepted the invitation, leaning in ever so closer, deepening the kiss with a simple angling of his head. With a sigh, he pressed his tongue firmly past small, white teeth into the younger man's mouth, tasting him. His tongue was gently caressed by that of his prey, another moan escaping his victim's throat at the sensation.

With a small growl, Murlough ripped himself away from the boy. He was panting, staring at Evra with dilated eyes and lust jumbling his thoughts. A glance at those too-tight shorts almost set him off. He needed to get away before the boy awoke, before anyone caught him, or before he did something foolish! Murlough wasn't a rapist. No. That was the last thing he would ever want to be, especially when he was trying to make a lasting partnership with the boy. A friendship of sorts. Simple kisses could be shared between friends, but rape was humiliating.

And as he left the tent, heading for a wooded area nearby to hide from the sun and anyone who could possibly track his scent, he knew Cecily would be proud of his restraint. He just hoped she would be even more proud of his handsome choice… and he hoped she didn't have an aversion to snakes. Because that would definitely make things awkward in the tunnels; and those damn rats would be sure to laugh.

**So, am I just crazy, or was the idea of a half-vampaneze goat great or what? I was quite taken by the idea of him saving the goat and himself... and to incorporate his inner crazy through Cecily 'talking' and the rats. (To anyone else, it would sound like Murlough's talking to a normal, slightly-more-vocal-than-most goat.) Also, sorry about The Kiss of Awkwardness. It was impromptu and written very early in the morning- 1 AM, to be exact. And I didn't have the hear to make it feel more natural. Murlough's just begging for some love, and I'm pretty sure Evra's responses would be pretty similar to that in all unconscious cases of intimacy. XD Oh, God, kill me now. I'm characterizing up the yin-yang here! But for now... R&R, sil vous plait. :)**


	3. And the Plot Thickens?

W**ow, it's been quite a while since I updated anything on here. But hey, it was my first quarter at a University and I went through a lot of social blossoming... including my very first boyfriend followed by my very first breakup! :D Yeah. Not something to be overly happy about... But who cares! I still have all you lovely dears supporting me through your words and favouriting my stuff. School would have been much harder without receiving those emails saying that you guys were still reading. :) I hope this is enough of an apology for being gone so long; hopefully I can balance writing and school next quarter. Enjoy! (Btw, sorry if characterization is bad for Tall and Crepsley... they're still so hard to do...)**

"You're crazy, Darren; I must have just scratched myself while hunting for the little people's food with you. You know how nasty some of those bushes can be when you're chasing a fox," I laughed. Inside, I was falling apart, wondering how long I had been marked, why I was marked when no vampire or vampaneze could drink my blood, and who had marked me. Life with the Cirque suddenly wasn't so safe anymore.

The young half-vampire grabbed me by my hair, yanking my head back and at an angle to expose the three parallel scars. With a gasp of pain, I tried to pull away from him to no avail; for once, he was using his super strength on me without apologies. I could still see those scars in the little mirror, how the scales around them were slightly jagged and discolored. How had I not noticed them before? For some reason, they trailed slightly onto my neck… longer than any other marking scars I had seen.

Darren studied them for a minute or two, his fist still in my hair. I glanced at him. His eyes were emotionless yet still brimming with tears as he lifted his other hand and ran three fingers along the marks. It tickled, and I chuckled with a half-hearted grin. "Don't do that! It tickles more than my snake's tongue!"

In response to my laughter, I received a watery glare, "And you shouldn't be laughing right now, dumbass."

Now that felt like a smack in the face.

"Darren, I'm sure that it's nowhere near as bad as you think it is… besides, those marks are much longer than any Vampaneze marks we've ever seen. And these could be rather fresh, too, which might mean I had scratched myself without knowing. That's happened before; remember those massive scratches on my belly when I had managed to wrap myself in my hammock a few months ago? God, those had hurt."

"Those weren't parallel."

"Well, yeah, but we don't _all _cut ourselves the same way each time we sleep, genius."

Darren stared at me for a moment before releasing his death grip on my hair and slinging himself onto my hammock with me. He said nothing for almost a minute, and I had begun to wonder if maybe he was going to seriously cry. But when I looked over at him, his eyes were dry and he was staring at the ground vacantly.

"Darren… we can still talk to Tall and Crepsley if you want."

He looked wearily up at me. I couldn't help but notice that his expressions were starting to mimic those of his mentor; thank God he hadn't started to mimic that way Crepsley talked. That would just be too damn weird dealing with two creepy, flute playing, spider controlling, no-contractions-ever vamps. Darren wouldn't be Darren anymore.

"I wouldn't mind that," he said after a while.

"Want me to go talk to Mr. Tall right now and get his opinion?"

A sort of light bulb went off in Darren's head, and he looked at me with a half-smile, "No, how about we talk with Mr. Crepsley first? He's seen his fair share of Vampaneze marks in his time, and seeing as he's really smart and remembers so much, I'm sure he'll—"

"Okay, Darren," I laughed, shoving him off my hammock before I jumped off as well, "I get it. Your dream man is smart, has a great memory, and is all around perfect to you. We can go to him first. Just, please, don't start talking about how great the sex is, or I won't be able to look the Vampire in the face ever again."

As I began to walk towards the entrance of the tent, I could almost feel the heat of Darren's blush wafting through our little space. My snake even seemed to look questioningly at me when Darren didn't follow me immediately. She slithered away from her brooding point and came up to me quickly, wrapping herself around me amiably. The tension in the tent must have dissolved her bad mood.

"But, Evra… we haven't… he says that we… _Evra!_" Darren yelled as I continued on my way to Crepsley's van, not even bothering to wait for his rebuttal or for him to actually follow me. When he finally caught up (which didn't take him that long, damn his unnatural speed and its ability to shorten his humiliation in moments like these), the color of his face reminded me of a tomato in the setting sun. "We haven't have sex, you know," he muttered, looking anywhere but at me.

"I know that, you silly half-blood-sucker; he'd say 'Darren is much too young to engage in sexual intercourse with, so I shall refrain from acting upon the burning desire in my nearly immortal body'. But that doesn't mean you don't want to."

I glanced at Darren and immediately knew I had gone too far with that joke. The look on his face was one of embarrassment and extreme sadness. He almost looked like he was going to cry again. What an overly sensitive boy as of late… I was beginning to wonder if Creepsly hadn't fed him the wrong info on puberty and when it would start for a half-vamp child. It wouldn't have surprised me in the slightest if he was going through that inner puberty, just as I had thought.

"Hey, I'm sorry if that—"

"That was something to effect of how he rejected me. He said I didn't know what I was talking about when I said I was interested in him… that if sex was what could make him love me, too, I'd do it."

We both had paused more than halfway to his mentor's van, and I glanced at it, wondering if Creepy Crepsley was silently listening to his young ward be emotional over him. I hoped he was and that he was feeling bad for making the kid sad. I patted Darren on the head before drawing him into a one armed hug.

"He's just looking out for your best interests, Darren! And he's probably covering his own horny ass by saying no to you. Think of it this way: he probably thinks you'll change in the years to come, and since he's old enough to pick on person and stick with them for at least a hundred years but you're not…"

"Does he really think I'd change so easily to loving someone else?"

Now Darren was angry, pulling himself away from me and crossing his arms. His still child-like figure made the crossing of his arms almost endearing, so I pulled him roughly back into a full hug. "He's an old man with insecurities, buddy. You just gotta make him see that you're super serious about this… but could you do me a favor with it?"

He looked hesitant and skeptical. "What's the favor?"

"Keep it all innocent in your affections until it won't look like a grown man is shagging a kid. I don't want the people who sometimes pass through here as circus hands spreading rumors that Mr. Tall is harboring a pedo and his love-child." I winked at Darren and laughed when he nodded extremely solemnly. The only thing that showed his real age were his eyes, and even now, they looked like those of a child.

"Will that make La- Mr. Crepsley realize that I'm being serious?"

"If waiting until your balls have dropped to show your carnal love for him isn't showing true, unrelenting love to last the ages, I don't know what is."

"You have a fascinating view of what shows true love, Master Von."

We both looked at the van in the same moment. Larten Crepsley, Vampaneze-killer extraordinaire and the red-headed love of Darren's rather short life stood in the open doorway to the van, hovering just within the darkness. It was impossible to tell what his expression was, but I hazard to guess that it had been one of genuine amusement at the expression on Darren's face. My best friend looked happy and ready to puke at the same time.

"Of course I do, Mr. Crepsley. I'm a snake-boy after all, which gives me the right to think how I want without critique from even the coldest hearted Vampires," I replied with a grin. He was used to me talking how I wanted around the Cirque grounds and didn't take a single word I said anymore as absolute truth unless I wasn't smiling. It was nice living in such leisure with the uptight blood sucker.

"Indeed. Did the two of you have a reason to come to me, or did you merely come close by to awaken me?"

I could almost hear the single raised brow in the question. Before I could answer sarcastically, Darren said hastily, "We need to talk to you, Mr. Crepsley."

"Is that so? Does this include both of you, or is Master Von simply unable to come to me alone?"

"Eh, it was Darren's idea we come to you first before we talk to Mr. Tall about it."

"Then come into my van where we may converse properly."

Darren and I covered the distance quickly and leaped into the van, jostling my snake slightly and causing her to tighten around me slightly. Or she might have done that because of the strange scent the Vampire always gave off. I used to joke with Darren that it was his mentor's preservatives, but I knew better than to crack that joke now. Everything was too serious for me, and they were too serious about each other as well. It would just be awkward.

"Smells like you've been preserving yourself again, Mr. Crepsley… or have you been dolling up for Darren?" Then both gave me looks that roughly translated to: 'WTF?'. Hey, I never said I _wouldn't _say anything, just that I knew better than to do it. But knowing better and actually not doing something are two totally different circumstances.

Darren smacked the back of my head (eliciting a warning his from my snake) as I grinned over my temporary immaturity before dragging me by my hair closer to Crepsley, "Ignore what he said, please, Mr. Crepsley, and look at his face."

"His appearance is as usual," the Vampire said after a glance, after which he looked back at Darren much more intently. "Is there something in particular you wished to show me on Master Von's face?"

My half-vampire friend stepped much closer to Mr. Crepsley and brought me closer as well. Crepsley looked at Darren until they made eye contact and I suddenly felt like finding a different room while they had their moment; Lord knew they needed the time to sort their crap out. But Darren broke the silent tension, "His left jaw."

Crepsley gently tilted my head to the side, exposing my left jaw and throat more fully. I wasn't worried about the outcome, even when he moved even closer, running his cool fingers along the scars and brushed lightly at the discolored scales with his nails. My bragging speech was ready for Crepsley to ask why mundane scratches were of such great importance to Darren and I… but he never said anything to deny it.

"Where did you acquire these rather… unique scars, Evra?"

It was never very good for me if Crepsley used my first name. He only seemed to do that when he was no longer in a joking mood with me ever since I had turned fifteen. It had been something about becoming more of a man and respectable that way. "I don't know where I got them," I replied warily, studying the changes in Darren's face as we spoke to each other, "But Darren noticed them first."

"This is not necessarily a bad sign, but I would prefer a second opinion on the matter. Have either of you spoken to Mr. Tall or any other Cirque member about this?"

Darren and I responded in unison, "No."

"I see. Then would both of you like to accompany me to Mr. Tall's van to speak with him? I am sure he would find these scratches on your neck to be quite interesting, Evra. How long have you had them?"

"A couple months, I guess."

"Ah, yes… Darren, has the sun set?"

"Yeah, I think it has. Or at least mostly."

"That will have to suffice; Mr. Tall should see this as soon as possible."

The three of us exited the van in silence, Darren walking close to his mentor while I walked detached from the two of them. I stroked my snakes head while focusing on anything but the fact that I might have been marked as the prey of a Vampaneze. There was still plenty of light outside that made the tops of the trees and most of the sky color prettily, and I watched a 'V' of geese flew by honking noisily the whole time, and it was obviously the beginning of a dewy night judging by the chill starting in the air, and I didn't think about the fact that I was as good as dead, and—

"What a surprise to see the four of you together in such a group at my door," Mr. Tall said after having opened the door of his van before we even reached it. His voice expressed no surprise at all, which wasn't unusual. He smiled his blackened, cool smile, eyes glittering ominously. That dark gaze I had always trusted to be friendly and fatherly seemed different now that everything had changed. He looked worried about me as if he already knew.

"The four of us…?" Darren asked after standing even closer to Crepsley, looking slightly frightened of the overly tall, gaunt man.

Tall nodded and gestured at me with an arm that seemed a mile long, "Surely you haven't forgotten Master Von's companion and fellow showman; or shall I say show-_woman_."

"Oh, yeah. His snake."

"Do come in. The night is already chilly and I would hate for any cold blooded members of your group to be injured by the temperature; I believe you have something to talk to me about, anyway, and indoors is always a much better place for serious conversation."

We walked single file (or at least partially; Crepsley and Darren walked into the van almost next to each other) into the van, following Mr. Tall dutifully inside and sitting in chairs before the desk; Mr. Tall stood sat behind the desk. Nobody said anything at first, all of them instead favoring the idea of staring at me as if I was supposed to be the one talking or showing off. I looked at all of them in turn before Mr. Tall said, "If this is about those scars, I already know who left them on you, Evra. And I do believe Larten knows as well; he just doesn't want to believe his instincts."

"Hibernius, I refuse to believe that he lived through that… even if you insist he did." Mr. Crepsley actually looked uncomfortable, like a child who had been trying his hardest to keep a secret while the person he meant to keep it from knew the whole time.

"Who are we talking about here?" I asked, looking around the group questioningly. My snaked wrapped around me a little bit snugger as if she was curious as well. Darren didn't look confused though, which made it even worse. He had almost the same sort of expression as Crepsley did.

Mr. Tall looked at the other two with no expression on his face, "You didn't tell him what you had smelled, Larten… Darren?"

Both of them shook their heads.

"The things people do for their friends to make them feel safe," the Cirque master said darkly, shaking his head slowly. Then he looked at me and said in a solemn voice, "Two months ago, both of these young men you came with smelled a very familiar scent in your tent. Especially in the proximity of you hammock; apparently they went against my advice and decided to say nothing to you about it."

I looked to both Crepsley and Darren questioningly, but it was Mr. Tall who continued speaking, "You know who I am speaking of as well, Evra, but you believe him to be dead as well. After all, had the three of you not thrown him and a dying goat into a sewer a matter of years ago?"

"E-excuse me?" He couldn't have been talking about who I thought he meant! That psycho was more than dead. Hadn't Crepsley and Darren said that he had fallen over dead in front of them? Oh, dear God, Mr. Tall had to be lying…

"Both of them smelled the Vampaneze, Murlough, in your tent; he is the one who marked you as his own, Evra."

No. No, no, no, no, no…

"There is no real evidence that it was Murlough other than a scent, and that could have come from a piece of clothing not properly laundered—"

"Two years of not being cleaned? Ha, I doubt it Mr. Crepsley. And besides… I've grown since then and don't own a single item from that time besides my hammock, my snake, and a pair of gloves that Truska carefully cleaned after that time," I interrupted the Vampire with a sort of anger growing in my chest. The prickle of tears behind my eyes let me know that I couldn't stay in that van much longer without breaking down. I stood suddenly, disturbing my snake in the process, "Why didn't you guys tell me?"

Before Darren or Crepsley could answer, Mr. Tall murmured, "They did not want you to worry about it if it came to be no problem for any of us. Apparently they were wrong, but that does not make them the villains, Evra. Darren and Larten did what they thought would be best for the two of you."

"Darren… why hadn't you told me? You're my best friend," I inquired wearily as I sat heavily back on my chair.

"I… I thought that it was an old smell, too."

"But you acted so surprised when you saw the scratches, too. You didn't think those were old, too, did you?"

"Mr. Crepsley told me that—"

"I told him that there was nothing to fear there. I also told him that it was from an old bag or piece of clothing and to not bother worrying over it again. Surely, the reason he felt so surprised was that he noticed the scars on you not long after we found the scent and thought that we misjudged the scent."

"Both of you are full of shit!"

The looks on all three of their faces was satisfying enough that I stood up again and left without another word. I didn't know what to think anymore, and it all seemed so convolutedly simple that I didn't want to know. I just wanted to know how much longer I had on the planet before I was sucked dry by an insane murderer.

As I walked slowly back to the tent, I felt horrible about my outburst at them. Of course Darren had been surprised; one day you smell someone you thought was dead, and within less than six months, you see marks saying that the 'dead' guy isn't so dead after all. I knew I would have been so surprised that I would act like I knew nothing about it before. I would need time to think it over and feel guilty for not saying a damn thing to my best friend.

And poor Scarface. Having thought so long that he had killed the Vampaneze and then finding out that oops, apparently he hadn't done as thorough a job as he believed. Now, after finding that out and thinking it was false information coming to his nose, he has to see his young pseudo-lover's BFF marked for a bloody execution. All because he had wanted to believe that the Vampaneze had been fully eviscerated, not just partially. That would gnaw at my conscience if I had been Crepsley…

I didn't understand Mr. Tall's perspective, though. He knew about the scent and the scratches already but hadn't said anything. The man always had reasons deeper and more intricate than any of us could ever think of for what he did, but I couldn't decipher any of it this time. How would any of benefit from me being marked? I knew he loved me like a son, so he wasn't doing it out of malice towards me; and he had no reason to hurt his own best friend and his ward. So why hadn't I been told?

When I was a matter of feet from the tent entrance, I stopped. Maybe I would just go talk with Truska… not about the marking bit, but just to calm myself and think. She had always been good at helping me feel, well, _better _when I was stressed. With a kiss to her forehead, I pushed my snake off of my shoulders and smiled at her to let her know I would be okay alone. Her tongue flickered out once before she slithered into the warmth of Darren's and my tent.

I headed towards Truska's van, still thinking deeply, not noticing the pair of eyes sparkling faintly in the underbrush near my tent.

**Good enough? I sure hope so! I didn't really get much of anywhere plotwise except for bringing in the awesome and beautiful Truska (who Mr. Shan never did give too much personality because of that language barrier, so I think I may take some creative liberties with her, just a little fyi) and making Evra even more of a girl about the whole situation. But at lest his snake's happy with him now!**

**Do you guys want Murlough and Crepsley to have a face-off later in the story? Idk if I want to try it or not, so I'm asking you guys to help me make up my mind! (Three months off from writing and she's already asking for help... so pitiful, lol.)**

**OH! One more note! I kinda realized belatedly that I made a semi-pedobear-creation out of the two relationships so far. So yeah, if you don't like teens (yes, Darren is a teen even if he still looks like a kid, thankyouverymuch) and adults gettin' together- and possibly gettin' it on later- then you may not want to keep reading. Sorry about never noticing that before... especially now when you're probably hooked (hopefully you are ;3). I'll do my best to keep them PG13 until Evra's 18 and Darren doesn't look like the star of a kiddie porno anymore. Yep; this fics gonna last a bit, I think. **

**Thanks for reading! Including all my silly little notes, lol, which you really aren't required to read but do anyway. You guys are awesome. :) Don't forget to R&R, or just favourite/alert it so I know you're likin' it. Until next time; toodles! :D **


	4. Matchmaker, Matchmaker!

**Dear Lord, guys... it's been a bit of time hasn't it? (And to think it's been even longer for my other stories. ._.;) But here it is in all its slightly crackish, mundane glory! This section was kinda difficult for me to write, 'cause I haven't read the books since the Summertime (damn, it's been a WHILE) and don't have them with me up here at WWU. **Come visit if you want. I know most of you won't even know where that is, and if you do, you probably won't know me from any of the other thousands of females on campus. And if you CAN find me, I totally owe you a hug, a stuffed bear, and lots of coffee.** But I did try to be good to it and give the characters good lines and all that... eh, who am I kidding? You guys be the judge of if I did well. ^_^ So without further ado, READ ON!**

Truska stared at me the whole time I sat within her little van, though she was still sewing wildly the entire time. Her fingers worked the fabric easily, pushing and pulling gently through the whirring needle of her machine, but her eyes never watched her handiwork unfold. No, they just rested on my face.

After a few minutes' worth of only the ticking whirrs of the machine, I finally sat up straighter in the chair she had offered me upon entering and glared at her. With a small huff, I let my lessons in her language stretch their underused legs and said, "What is it?"

She smiled briefly upon hearing her own tongue fluidly coming from another. Again, without looking away from my face, she withdrew a small pair of shears from beneath her tiny working desk and snipped the loose ends on her stitching; with a practiced movement, she flawlessly pressed the other 'side' of the unknown garment under foot and gave it unto the teeth of the feed-dog for more flawless stitching movement. She didn't answer me.

"Truska," I finally said with a strong hint of exasperation, "why are you staring at me so intently?"

"Because it makes my heart glad to see that you have been spoken for."

"E-excuse me?" How had she known anything about my being marked? And why would she refer to it in such as a way as to make it seem that I had been marked for more than… feeding? She spoke of it as if I had acquired a girlfriend or some such unlikely silliness.

"That is a mark of your mate, no?" The smile on her face was getting closer and closer to just being a shit-eating grin. And those types of grins always ate away at my short patience rather quickly. Truska knew that, though… she just liked to press me to the edge of my sanity to get answers out of me that I wouldn't usually give freely. The Bearded Lady of the Cirque was an odd one, but she sure knew how to manipulate others to get what she wanted, and without negative consequences for her.

I pressed a slightly shaky hand to the scars on my neck and jaw, covering them completely as I blushed a deep shade of pink beneath my delicate facial scales. The hope that she wasn't able to see the blood rising to my cheeks at her question was dashed when her smile widened to the point of what I was more than happy to inwardly call 'The Joker' smile. "It's not like that, Truska…"

"The smell left by your mate speaks otherwise."

A loss for words and a piercing embarrassment left me breathless and confused. The smell? What smell? My snake was one of the most sensitive to smells in the whole camp, and she hadn't seemed to pick up anything odd about me. Then again, if she was as seemingly happy about me having a 'mate' as Truska was, there was no way I'd be able to tell if she sensed it or not.

The sewing machine whirred on, buzzing a pinpoint into the back of my skull. A headache was already forming from the stress.

"They leave very particular scents; men always do on the ones they care about the most. But this one left one quite unique, didn't he?"

Finally pulling my hand away from my face, I raked it through my hair, which had been out of its ponytail for a while now. Truska's eyes tracked the movement fluidly, and I took a moment to wonder if maybe she was psychic or something. But that would be silly… she was just a woman with a different set of senses than most of the rather dull people I knew. Her perceptive qualities were keyed into different things than I was used to, which turned out to be helpful at times. At least that's what I hoped she was all about.

"Yeah. The bastard cut me. Marked me, really."

"His kind always do that; it's no longer unique if it's done to all. But the scent he left… it's sweet. Innocent, almost, with a note of spice. Lust, maybe. His lust for you wars with his infatuation."

"You can smell all of that?"

"I recognize your smell every time you pass by my van, do I not?"

"Well, yeah, that's why you always know whether or not to come bursting out of here with an armful of sequins, polyester, and gold braiding to size things to me."

Truska smiled happily knowing full well that, pushing aside my condescending tone, I loved it every time she ambushed me for a fitting. It made me feel like I was needed for something more interesting than hunting for the Little People or cleaning up around the current camp site. She always made me feel like I was worth the time to talk to, and was one of the few to do as much on a regular basis. Also, it never hurt that she would give me Oreos or other various junk foods whenever I agreed to be fitted.

"Yes, and now you smell different. Innocent infatuation and lust are on you now."

"How do you know that's what those smells are, though? And what if they're just coming from me, not from the freak that marked me as his little pet? Or maybe from one of my friends?"

"I have smelled your infatuation before, and your lust for another. They were different. More immature. This mixture is more intense, different, older."

"Maybe it rubbed off of Creepy Crepsley when I was with him and Darren in his van. I swear, that man had a raging boner as soon as he saw that Darren was with me…"

"His lust is different as well; for his is out of a confirmed love, not an innocent infatuation. Darren's scents when he is thinking of Larten are similar as well, but much younger than the smells lingering on you."

"Oh, God, don't tell me that you smell Darren getting all hot 'n' bothered over Scarface. That's just disgusting!"

"You find love between two honest people to be revolting; why?"

I rolled my eyes and waved my hand at her. "It's not that. I just don't like the mental image of Darren and _Senior Pedobear_ getting it on is all. Or having the hots for each other. It's gross."

"I find it sweet. True love is always a treat to watch unfold… it rarely happens anymore."

"Eh, whatever."

"True love may be unfolding for you as well, my young friend. Smells do not lie to me," Truska purred with a demure smile and a wink. My stomach got all fluttery for a moment before I fixed her with a glare. Pearls of laughter poured from her as I crossed my arms and looked away from her gaze to survey her van. Messy, as usual, but homey and comfortable.

"They might not be from the Vampaneze creeper who decided to make me his next target and future plaything; it could be left over from someone I walked into when I was in… well, I…"

I had been planning to say 'downtown', but I knew she wouldn't fall for something like that. Even I couldn't get myself to believe that I had brushed into anybody with those pheromones the last time I had gone into town; nobody ever strayed close enough to me to let anything more than curiosity rub off on me. And even then, I knew that the only way Truska would be able to sense something would be if it was fresh, and the last time I had been into any towns had been months before. I had taken to avoiding cities after my little incident with Murlough.

Seemed avoiding them hadn't done me a damn thing; I was still marked. I was still prey to some weirdo who hadn't just accepted his fate and died like he was supposed to.

"You speak of him as if he means you harm, Evra. How do you know of his motives if you have no conversed with him personally?"

"What else am I supposed to think, Truska?" I laughed humorlessly, earning myself a slight and fleeting glare from the gorgeous woman before me, "He was a crazy piece of blood-sucking shit back then and he's bound to be the same now."

"When somebody loves another, they do not mean them harm," she replied curtly, obviously not seeing my side of the argument. Then again, she had never experienced the madness of 'young Murlough' in anything more than stories, so how was she supposed to know the full extent of his level of crazy? I watched her hands as she began stitching black cording onto the garment that was now looking more and more like a huge grey tunic. What looked to be matching trousers sat next to the machine, apparently finished.

"But this guy doesn't love me any more than he loves Darren."

The glare I received then was thoroughly chilling, and I averted my gaze once more, this time feeling extremely uncomfortable in Truska's cramped little van. She placed her sewing aside and walked quietly to my side, tilting my chin to look up at her and the gentle smile she was wearing. Without a word, she pulled me from my chair and into a tight hug.

With just that simple motion, I lost all of my manly dignity and began sobbing onto her shoulder. My arms seemed to wrap themselves around her of their own accord, and I clung to her as I cried myself out. Minutes later, Truska pulled partially away from me, looking me in the face and smoothing her hands over my hair and cheeks. "Evra."

With a sniffle, I rubbed at my eyes like a small child before looking at her directly. "Yeah?"

"He does love you."

"And how would you know?"

"I have my ways, my little serpent."

Deciding not to push for further answers, I just looked away in a sort of sad agreement. I could feel her smile still angled toward me, but refused to look up in case she wanted to say more unsavory, sappy things about me being marked by a crazy man (things I couldn't disagree with because she tended to be right even when I didn't want her to be).

"Now, I think it is time for you to go, Evra. It is almost time for dinner, and I do not want the others who you left so un-ceremonially to think that you have gone missing. Think about what I have said, yes?"

I nodded and hugged her once more, knowing full well that I would be thinking about what she said for many days to come… there was almost nothing else I could conjure in my mind that could tear my attention away from the scars on my body. Those markings, and the meaning they had according to the ever-mysterious Truska, had caused too much of an uproar for me to ignore them.

As I was leaving the little van to head for the mess tent, I heard Truska call out to me once more. Upon turning, a small silvery pouch was tossed to me with a grin. I thanked her profusely but didn't open it until I was almost halfway to mine and Darren's shared tent. Inside was a tiny, intricately woven charm made of what felt like downy goat fur. It was in the shae of a heart.

With a smile, I tucked it into the pocket in my shorts. I didn't know if it was a gift from Truska or someone completely different (after all, it could have been from Darren, one of the Little People, or a Cirque helper… though how they got any goat hairs or the ability to weave said hairs into anything was beyond me), but I liked it. And it made me smile.

"You can come out now," Truska giggled, focusing her gaze on her sewing project once more. She was attaching sleeves to the tunic now and she couldn't very well afford to look up and make sure the man was even awake anymore. After all, he had been hiding away in her closet for a good while and could have fallen asleep in the middle of that whole ordeal with Evra.

With a self-conscious sort of shuffle, an oversized man wearing a bloodied and much worn greying suit emerged from the sweet smelling confines of Truska's overstuffed closet. His cheeks, which were usually tinted a lavender so pale as to seem an unhealthy shade of white, were even more pale than usual. In fact, if Truska was to say so herself, the man looked positively frightened.

"Happy?" She asked in heavily accented English.

Murlough scratched his cheek with a single overgrown, pinkish nail and stared at the blonde for a few moments, "But I couldn't understand anything…"

"Not matter. He accepts it."

"He accepts being mine?"

"To point, yes."

"But, to a point isn't acceptance. That's a general tolerance… maybe Cecily wasn't right about all of this," he sighed, looking around the room with an extremely dejected expression on his sallow face.

"You must believe! No believe, no love!" With that, Truska degenerated into muttering in her native tongue and rolling her eyes as she finished up with the garment in her hand. Then after a few minutes of her sewing and him standing there awkwardly in the middle of the van, Truska scooped both the pants and the tunic into her arms and threw they at the vampaneze. Even with his lack of blood, the garments were caught easily.

"Are these for me?" She nodded once with a smile and waved him away to try them on in the confines of her closet. "Are you sure?" Again, nod and smile. "And they'll fit?" Truska sighed then with a small chuckle and shooed the vampaneze again.

Murlough practically skipped into the closet with a smile on his face and the soft grey fabric clutched gently in his hands as if a harsh touch would break its very fibers. Giving no care to the garments he was currently wearing, the large man practically ripped the ratty suit from his body and donned the grey pants first. They fit perfectly, slightly fitted in the upper thighs and loosening as they continued down his legs. With a barely restrained fit of glee, he pulled the tunic of her head as well, marveling at how well it fit him as well. The sleeves were just barely tight enough to show that he was a formidable opponent for anyone (be they rat, human, vampire, or other nefarious creature) as was the chest, but it was loosely comfortable around his ribcage and thusly his abdominal scars.

The urge to roar his approval for the whole camp to hear was almost irrepressible. Nothing had fit him so well in so long… and this was the first time that he hadn't had to kill the maker of the garments afterwards. He hadn't even asked for these ones, which was good… he didn't feel quite at ease enough around the beautiful Truska. She gave off the sort of vibe he had only sensed in that tall man Crepsley tended to be in cahoots with. It was creepy.

And he felt it would be a bad idea to attack her anyway. She had an indestructible _beard!_

"Come out; want to see you," Truska called with a happy lilt to her voice that made Murlough even giddier. She sounded genuinely interested in seeing him and without even a touch of fear in her tone. This was a new thing for Murlough, and he quite liked feeling normal!

When he stepped out, Truska took one look at him and rose from her seat to give Murlough the very first hug of his entire life. His parents had never wanted to really touch him—they were those types of parents, the ones who wanted children for show but not for play—so being hugged by a woman who barely knew him was both a shock and a pleasure.

"Looks good, Murlough," she said as she stepped away from him and reappraised the new look, "Want shoes?"

The vampaneze bashfully smiled, still partially stunned by the woman being so nice. People were usually so mean to him, throwing things whenever all he had done was kill a _single _man or woman or had broken into a store in search of objects that could help make his life easier wherever he happened to live at the time. None of the things were too very horrible on Murlough's scale of Things That Are Really Bad To Do, so he never understood fully why other hated and feared him.

"I… I don't really need shoes… I kinda just… walk around just fine without shoes…"

Truska rolled her eyes and began to rummage through a small trunk before pulling out a pair of black slippers. "Try on."

"I doubt they'll fit," Murlough proceeded to lift one very dirty foot into the air, overgrown, sharp nails and all to show Truska what he meant, "I've got big feet. Always have."

"They will fit, I know it."

The slippers were thrust into his arms, and the woman watched him very pointedly, waiting for him to don the slippers as he was supposed to. Again, the large man was surprised… they fit him perfectly!

"How…?"

She winked at him and giggled coquettishly, waggling her finger at him to say that she was never going to share her secrets with a soul. Murlough didn't exactly mind though… he was just happy that he had clothes that weren't completely trashed and made him feel a bit more worthy of kidnapping the delicious, rather scantily clad serpentine boy.

Not that he hadn't felt _unworthy _or anything to begin with...

**Isn't Murlough just a doll? XD I like writing him, even if he's kind of a creeper and not quite as cray-cray as Mr. Shan's version. But hey, I get to have my liberties as an authoress, no? And anyway, I like this version more. And what'd you guys think of my Truska 'creation'? I think she's pretty adorable... and much better than the book version.**

**Oh, and as an aside: can you guys tell that I have a think for scents? :P And eyes. Those seem to be two things that come up as focus points in a lot of what I write; probably because they're focus points in my life. But you know what they say! Write about what you KNOW! And I know how it is to tell a little something about someone by their eyes and by their smells. And my nose is sensitive... :\ BUT NOW I'M RAMBLING! Alright, skee-daddle my lovies; you have better things to do than listen to me rant about things that are pretty much off-topic. :3**


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